Cana Rensberger

Hey Rebecca! Thanks for the question you posted on my previous post, Voice - Some observations.

"Voice is such a hard thing to define. I agree with you, Cana, especially with books that have contemporary settings--you can often hear the same voice in the novel as you can in the writer's speech habits. What confuses me is the difference between writerly voice and the various distinct voices writers create for their characters. Take Ena's books, where her 12-year-old boy characters sound different from her 12-year-old girl characters, and her adult characters are each distinct, too. Yet they're all recognizably coming from the Pen of Ena (to coin a phrase). Care to comment?"

I've wondered about the same thing - how we make our characters distinct from one another. This may sound weird, but I think our voice is a combination of all of our experiences. In other words, Ena has a house full of boisterous (wonderful) boys. They are a part of her and her ear is finely tuned to their voices, but even so, her voice still comes through. Does that make sense?

As a teacher, I've known and loved lots of students. Often, when I'm trying to place a character's voice, I picture a particular former student, or even a compilation of several students. But it's not just their face, or their appearance. I remember them in action, moving, talking, interacting with myself, their peers, other adults, etc. This is where I pinpoint their voice. But as the author, my particular perspective on this event or situation, colors the scene. My voice.

Think of it this way. You've heard that if more than one person witnesses an event, each individual would still tell a different story from a different perspective. Like an auto accident. A Mom would focus on the car seat in the back. Maybe a guy would notice the damage to the vehicle. A child might worry about the animal that caused the driver to swerve - if it was okay. A minister would have a different perspective from the young EMT working at the scene.

So as we work our scenes, we filter through our experiences and select what we need for our characters. But when it comes right down to it, it's still all being told from our own perspective. Everything we write is filtered through who we are first. And I believe that voice happens when we allow ourselves to flow upon the page.

Comments???

Voice is a slippery thing. Trying to grab hold of it is often as easy as capturing a bit of fog in your hand. And even when you've found your voice, you're not quite sure what it is. You only know that something feels different. Your friends are commenting that they see it in your writing. You think to yourself, "What am I doing different?" and more importantly, "Can I do it again?"

I blame a writer's struggle with voice on teachers. (Sorry. Ouch. I know. I am one. But hey, I teach math. What harm could I do? Yeah, right. I know.) Hmmm...was that voice? But, as usual, I digress. Many writers look back upon their school days and remember those early attempts at writing. I have some particularly awful poems and even a screen play that I wrote. (The screen play, I've decided, was possibly a direct result of reading Freckle Juice by Judy Blume.) Since her book is not written as a screen play, I don't think I can be accused of plagiarism. At least, I hope not. Since it will never see the light of day beyond my own home, I don't think I'll need to worry about it. (Yes, I still have it, complete with a construction paper cover crudely illustrated by...myself.)

But my favorite was a story I wrote about a white horse named, (of course), Snow Queen. I was the protagonist, I rode around on this beautiful steed, attired in fringe buckskin, catching all the criminals. I was soooo famous, I never even had to do the paperwork. That chore was assigned to the underlings in the police department.

Of course, I thought this story was amazing. Imagine my devastation when I got it back with red marks all over it. I don't even remember the grade. Just the red. I remember whining to my mom that they didn't even comment on the creativity. (I don't think I still have this story. One day, I'll have to look for it. It would make a wonderful slide on an author presentation, don't you think? Along with the cover of Freddy the Frog with Freckles?

But the main thing I remember, (yes, I remember, I'm supposed to be talking about voice here), was how often I was told, "You write like you talk." Like that was a bad thing? And not just that one 6th grade teacher. (Robin Hill. Creve Coeur, Missouri. You know who you are.) But all the way through. I teach with an incredible language arts teacher now. I had her in high school. Sorry to say, I don't actually remember her as a teacher, which is totally weird, because she's really, really good, but I do still have scads of writing from her class. With the red pen. Lots of it.

"Don't write like you talk."

But as an avid reader, here's what I'm coming to realize. Maybe voice is writing like you talk. I recently reviewed Headlock by Joyce Sweeney. I know Joyce well enough that I know the rhythm of her speech. Her voice. And as I read her book, I heard her voice. In my head, I could hear her saying certain phrases. It sounded like her.

Same thing with Prom Kings and Drama Queens by Dorian Cirrone. Dorian was the first one to critique one of my YA manuscripts. I've known her long enough that as I read her book, again, I could hear her voice. Her witty sarcasm.

And writer buddies, Linda Eadie, Paul May, and Ena Jones. Remember those names, you'll want to pick up their books one day. After years of working together to perfect our craft, I know their voices. I know them so well that if I were to pick up one of their manuscripts, without knowing they were the author, I'd know they'd written it. I can hear their voice.

Did any of you used to listen in the the voices of brothers John Green and Hank Green, on their video blog? Listen to the way John talks. Hear how he ends his statements with a question mark? And listen to his language. "Hyper-physical medium called real life?" Who talks like that? (Amazing, isn't he.) Now go read his books. Same voice. Same language. Same wry wit. Same nerdiness.

That's voice.

Don't listen to your teachers. Write like you talk.

I bought this book for my son. I also bought this book for me, because I love Joyce Sweeney. But it took me a while to read it because, well, I don't like wrestling. I don't understand it or the fascination the public has for it. But...I love Joyce Sweeney's writing. So I started reading HEADLOCK yesterday, and, oh my gosh, I get it now! But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Kyle is a high school Senior and a member of the gymnastics team. He has lived with his eighty-something year-old grandmother since he was four years old when his mother decided the mommy thing wasn't working out for her. His father was nothing more than a blast in a cup. No name. Nothing. Kyle makes good grades and has a steady job delivering pizzas. But what he really wants is to wrestle. To the dismay of his teammates, he quits gymnastics and enrolls in a wrestling class.

It soon becomes evident that Kyle is a natural. Everyone in the class can see it, but they're not all happy about it. Kyle soon realizes that if he's going to make it in this biz, he's going to have to learn to deal with the taunting and harassment from some of his classmates.  When the only girl in the class begins to take notice of Kyle, it at once escalates the jealousy, and at the same time, makes it much more fun to deal with. Ophelia helps him focus on getting the opportunity to be in a show opposite Rat Boy, who can make or break his career. As their relationship blossoms, so does his fame as a wrestler. But when his grandmother's health begins to fail, Kyle must decide between the responsibility of caring for her full time or wrestling. His decision could cost him his love for Ophelia, and his fledgling wrestling career.

When Ms. Sweeney places you in the ring with Kyle and his opponents, you will experience the difficulty of the performance. If the timing's not perfect, the audience will know it's fake, or worse, the wrestler could meet with serious injury. The author turns wrestling into an art. A gymnastics routine. She shows the reader the professional side of wrestling, and how hard wrestlers work at their craft, sometimes just so they can help their opponent win. Some of the moves sound like dance moves, and as you read, they feel like dancing. Even the process of finding your wrestling name is a big deal.

And as Kyle struggles with his aging grandparent, you are relieved that he has Ophelia to interject both reason and humor into his life. This isn't a book just about wrestling. This is a book about making difficult life choices. HEADLOCK was a fabulous read and, as with all of Joyce Sweeney's books I've read, it will keep you turning the pages.

I should be writing. I know that. But this is something I've been meaning to look into for, well, probably the past four or five summers. So, gosh darn it, I took the time today. I have three items that are antiques. Well, I have other pieces of furniture, etc., but these three are special. You know how you wonder if it would be worth it to stand in line at an antique road show? Well, for these three items, probably not. Either that, or I'm terrible at research.

The first? A Singer toy sewing machine, model 20. It really works!

Amazing. Absolutely amazing. Imagine a North American future where there are no states. No countries. Only a capitol and a dozen districts. Each district little more than a body of slaves to the capitol.In Katniss' district they produce coal. Life is harsh. After losing her dad in a mine explosion, she is forced to hunt illegally and keeps her mother and sister just above starvation level.

So why don't they revolt against the capitol? Because the last time they trie, the thirteenth district was obliterated. And the capitol reminds them yearly of the high price of any attempted revolt. Each year each district must participate in the reaping. A boy and a girl are harvested for the games. Twenty-four names. All between twelve and eighteen years of age. Only one will win. Only one will survive.

Katniss knows the chances of her name being selected are high. Each time she requested extra supplies for her family's survival, her name was entered again. And this year, for the first time, her frail, tender sister, Prim, is eligible. But there's no chance Prim's name will be called. She is entered only once. Out of thousands. Katniss made sure of it.

But Prim's name is called, and before she can even reach the stage, Katniss has volunteered in her place. The others assembled do not remember a time when someone from district twelve has volunteered.

Katniss is taken by train to the capital with Peeta, the other contender from her district. She realizes she knows him. He's the baker's son, the one who threw the loaf of bread her direction when she was near starvation. The two are fed richly, plucked and preened and dressed for presentation to the districts on TV, along with all the others who have been chosen. Peeta treats Katniss with kindness, almost reverence. Will Katniss team up with Peeta to increase her odds of winning? Will that garner more sponsors? She knows she will need sponsors if she's to make it through alive. Or is he just trying to trick her so she'll let her guard down. Slip up.

Alliances are made. And broken. Several contenders die the first day. But the hunger games have only begun. Katniss knows that the games will go on until only one contender remains. And if it becomes too boring, and no one is dying, the game makers will create horrifying events to make sure the captives are brought together. The ultimate reality show. Except there's no way out.

Make sure you have nothing pressing to do before you start this book. It will pull you in and you won't want to put it down. THE HUNGER GAMES by Suzanne Collins has the same intensity and incredible pacing as THE HOUSE OF THE SCORPION by Nancy Farmer which won numerous awards. The hype about this book? It's no hype. It's just that good.

The first time this was emailed to me, I was impressed. The second time I received it, I was amazed. The first time, I thought they were dancers. The second time, instead of simply glossing over the video, I took the time to read the blurb about them.




There is an awesome dance, called the Thousand-Hand Guanyin. Considering the tight coordination required, their accomplishment is nothing short of amazing,even if they were not all deaf.  All 21 of the dancers deaf-mutes. Relying only on signals from trainers at the four corners of the stage, these extraordinary dancers deliver a visual spectacle that is at once intricate and stirring.

It's first major international debut was in Athens at the closing ceremonies for the 2004 Paralympics. But it had long been in the repertoire of the Chinese Disabled People's Performing Art Troupe and had traveled to more than 40 countries. Its lead dancer is 29 year old Tai Lihua, who has a BA from the Hubei Fine Arts Institute. The video was recorded in Beijing during the Spring Festival 2005.

Yes, I'm going a little video happy lately. I'm looking for good inspirational videos for my classroom next year to go along with our PBS initiative. (Positive Behavior Support.) I want to teach my students to dream. To go for the seemingly unreachable. Many of my students never leave our little rural town. So I want to bring the world to them.

The writing? Going well. Word count: About 23,500 out of a guesstimated 60,000. Now that summer's here, I'm reaching for a goal of 2K per day, knowing I won't reach it every day, yet knowing some days I will, and more. But I'd rather that, than set an easily attainable goal that is no challenge at all.

Enjoy the video. Be inspired. No excuses.

Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time. ~ Thomas Edison

I just started this. OMG! I can barely put it down. But I have to read through my crit partners 20 pages!Okay, Cana. Put the book down. Slowly. Now back away from the book.

Must. Crit. Manuscript. Pages.

This book was sent to me months ago. I'll be honest. It kept getting shuffled to the bottom of my reading pile. Why? The cover. Something about it just didn't intrigue me. So a week or so ago, I made myself pick it up. It was sent to me with glowing recommendations by someone whose opinion I greatly respect as a reader. I read the flap copy:

"Joey Willis is used to being left out of conversations. Though she's been deaf since the age of six, her mother has never allowed her to learn sign language. Everything changes when Joey meets Dr. Charles Mansell and his baby chimpanzee, Sukari. Her new friends use sign language to communicate, and Joey secretly begins to learn to sign. Spending time with Charlie and Sukari, she has never been happier. But as Joey's world blooms with possibilities, Charlie's and Sukari's choices begin to narrow - until Sukari's very survival is in doubt.

Inspired by the true story of a chimpanzee raised as a human child, HURT GO HAPPY is he unforgettable story of one girl's determination to save the life of a fellow creature - one who shares 98% of our DNA, and who has the ability to communicate with us."

That doesn't even begin to show the emotional pull of this story. This is not just a story about a girl, a man, and a chimp. This is a story about determination. This is a story about a young teen realizing that her mother is not perfect after all and loving her just the same. This is a story about a mother learning to let her daughter be independent. This is a story about following through with your responsibilities, even though it may mean doing things you've never done before and going places you've never been. Even though you may be hurt in the process.

HURT GO HAPPY will leave you changed. You'll never think about testing on animals the same. Every time you see an animal in a movie or commercial, you'll wonder about their fate. You'll find yourself wanting to sign up for an ASL class. You will cry as you read. You will rejoice. You will hope and plot and pray with Joey as she struggles to save Sukari. And in the end, you will be satisfied in knowing that Joey did not take the easy way out. She didn't quit. She persevered in her fight against her mother as well as social apathy until she found the best solution for Sukari.

This book touched my soul. It reconnected me with my 13 year old self. The one that couldn't get enough Helen Keller books. I'm saddened that I passed over this amazing book so many times just because it didn't have a flashy cover. This is not a flashy book. This book is real. Read it. It will leave you feeling empowered. Incredible read. Thank you, Ginny Rorby.

I can't paint, draw, or sculpt. But I can appreciate art. Especially when I can watch art in progress. Janeen Mason, a member of Fl. SCBWI shared these two videos.

This second one is much longer. But I enjoyed his thoughts about his art. Be inspired! Happy writing all!

Cameron Morgan attends the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women where, unknown to the outside world, she is training to be a spy. She first stole our hearts in Ally Carter’s I’D TELL YOU I LOVE YOU, BUT THEN I’D HAVE TO KILL YOU. Ms. Carter’s second novel, CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO SPY is a fast-paced Gallagher Girls sequel that you won’t be able to put down.

In the first novel, Cammie falls for Josh, a regular boy from the village who crashes her final exam. CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO SPY begins as Cammie is debriefed about her ex-boyfriend, aka, The Subject. She wonders if he even remembers her, if she’ll ever see him again, or if she even wants to. She promises her mother, the headmistress of Gallagher, that she’s finished with lying and sneaking around, unless under cover, of course, and that she’ll never let a boy compromise her judgment again. Ready to focus on her classes, it’s an easy promise to make. But it’s not long before Cammie realizes how difficult that promise will be to keep.

She overhears her mother tell her Covert Operations teacher, “Cammie doesn’t know anything.” They discuss something called Blackthorne. Her mother tells the girls of the academy that the East Wing is closed due to contamination by fumes from the chemistry labs. But Cammie knows there’s no way that’s possible. “There is no ventilation access from the chem labs to the East Wing,” she says.

Cammie and her friends are forced to launch their own covert operation to discover more about the fifteen male spies who have moved in as guests of the academy. She wonders why she is continually paired with Zach and how he knows so much about her and the secret passages within the academy. When the academy’s security is breached, knowing who you can trust becomes a matter of life and death.

If you haven’t read Ally Carter’s Gallagher Girls novels, you are seriously missing out on a fabulous experience. CROSS YOUR HEART AND HOPE TO SPY was every bit as good as Ms. Carter’s first Gallagher Girls novel. Her third book, DON’T JUDGE A GIRL BY HER COVER, is due to be released in June. I’m putting in a Pre-Order and hoping that I’ll see these books on the big screen.


This review was originally posted here at Teens Read Too.

Another  Florida SCBWI member had the opportunity to sit at Ernest Hemingway's typewriter, her fingers poised over the keys.  Her picture inspired this post.

After over a week of high activity at the Rensberger Roost, I finally wrote again Saturday. A regular writing marathon. Sixteen pages. 3300 words! Yehaw! Today I worked cleanup on those pages.

I had about a half hour left over before picking up daughter at her play practice. Staring at my computer screen I read, "Chapter Sixteen." That's it. No title. No clue where I want to go next.

You know how you can zoom in when you use your GPS, and if you zoom in too closely, you kind of lose perspective on where you are in relation to where you are going? That's exactly how I felt. Time to pull back. Look at the whole picture again. What scene or scenes am I writing toward? How will I get to those scenes? I hate play by play scenes just to fill the time. I'm thinking a clean jump. But to where? The transition must be seamless.

So, for now, I closed the document. I went to my emails with my expert contact. Found the email that I needed. Uploaded it to my brain. Time to recharge. Let my brain do the pre-writing. I'm confident that when I next sit down to write I'll know what my character needs to do. Or what I need someone else to do to her.

In the meantime, I'm satisfied. The writing is going well. I'm at almost 18K out of an estimated 60K. I know the big scenes I need. I know the climactic scene. It's all those little ones that my characters show me that I have to be patient and wait for. I find that if I force it, I'll usually have to delete it anyway.

Happy writing all.

Aphra Connolly lies to her dad and flies to Seattle just to see her mother, Natalie. But Natalie can’t wait to get Aphra on the next plane home. Sure, she hadn’t told her mom she was coming, and maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but it had been four years since she’d seen her! As Natalie takes Aphra back to the airport, a phone call changes Natalie’s mind and instead of being boomeranged back home, Aphra becomes embroiled in the dangerous world of Natalie’s work as an covert ex-CIA agent.

While Natalie talks with her co-workers, Joe and Stuart, Aphra is isolated on the balcony of Natalie’s apartment, where, soon after, she meets Ryan, Natalie’s hunky neighbor, on the rooftop. But before the day is out Aphra’s boyfriend, Seth, arrives in Seattle and demands she return his ring; she witnesses Joe’s death; she is stalked by a blond man; and she ends up stranded on a mountain top with Natalie, Seth and Stuart. Will they be able to escape whoever is trailing them? Will Seth be able to save his dad by returning the ring? And will Aphra ever be able to connect with her mother again?

DEATH BY LATTE is the type of book that causes you to forget you have cookies in the oven, or that you need to turn out the light because it’s three in the morning and you know you have to get up early. You simply won’t care. You will be so engrossed in the twists and turns of the story that you won’t want to stop reading, especially since Linda Gerber is a master at writing chapter endings that compel you to read on.

DEATH BY LATTE is Linda Gerber’s second murder mystery thriller and I cannot wait to read her other titles. My thirteen-year-old daughter read this book, insisted I read it, and asked me to buy all of her books for her birthday. What better praise can an author receive than that? I only regret that when I give Ms. Gerber’s books to my daughter, I’ll have to wait for her to read them first.

This review was posted here at Teens Read Too.

For those of you who immersed yourself in the world of THE ASTONISHING LIFE OF OCTAVIAN NOTHING, TRAITOR TO THE NATION, VOLUME I: THE POX PARTY, you must read M. T. Anderson’s second volume, THE KINGDOM ON THE WAVES. I would highly recommend you read the two volumes in order. In volume two, Octavian escapes the cruelty of Mr. Gitney and, with his former tutor, Dr. Trefusis, on his back, flees across the mud-flats to Boston. Once there, they are able to find lodging, trading only upon the name and reputation of the deathly ill Dr. Trefusis. With war closing in on Boston and their hostess in dire need of payment, Octavian once again finds himself with violin in hand, earning a small amount to apply toward their room and board. At this point, I was still cheering for Octavian, the escaped slave, hoping that he finally would find joy, peace and, most of all, freedom; yet at the same time, knowing that there must be more challenges first.

As the Revolutionary War advances, Octavian hears that the Royalists are promising freedom to all slaves who fight for the King of England. He joins and dons his uniform, a shirt inscribed with the words “Liberty to Slaves.” We are immediately immersed in the struggle to prepare an ill-equipped regiment for war. He becomes a member of Lord Dunmore’s Ethiopian Regiment. Here, for the first time, he is surrounded by other slaves who speak other languages. They tell glorious tales of their homes in Africa and sing rousing songs that make his heart pound. They see him as different, a white man in a black body, and brand him with the name Buckra.

Octavian marches into his first battle behind other regiments, amazed that those first to confront the Rebels are little more than a sacrifice. He does not understand the logic behind this type of fighting. It’s not long before they are in retreat, fellow soldiers dead and dying all around, and something inside Octavian changes. How can it not?

With the Rebel force surging into Boston, the Royalists take to their ships. Octavian and the Ethiopian Regiment find a new level of darkness in the bowels of their ship. They spend weeks, nay, months aboard their watery foundations. Rations are less than sparse and sickness begins to spread. It’s a relief to row ashore, even if it is to burn Boston out from under the rebels who have claimed it. Men die. Men kill. Octavian knows not whether it be his bullet or another which steals life.

Back aboard ship, the monotony begins anew, broken only by the occasional duties on deck, and the visits of women as they gather laundry, including Nsia, the woman of beautiful voice and dance who takes his tongue and ties it in knots. He is relieved when Dr. Trefusis visits his ship and bades him fill the empty void with studies while they listen to stories of bravery and ingenuity. Stories of slaves escaping their masters to join the promise of freedom offered by Lord Dunmore and his Royal Navy. Octavian learns much about his mother’s tribe in Africa from another soldier from that nation. And as small pox devastates the Ethiopian Regiment, he learns more that he would have liked about the burial customs of his brothers-in-arms.

There is so much history bound up in this volume that it is almost overwhelming. Take your time reading. Savor the beautiful language. Immerse yourself in history from a perspective rarely considered. It is evident that M.T. Anderson spent much time researching his topic before putting pen to paper. Although Octavian is fictional, I feel he is real. I am grateful for the diary he left behind that lets us glimpse what life must have been like for The Ethiopian Regiment. And I am grateful that Mr. Anderson shared a slice of this perspective of our Revolutionary War.

I said it when I reviewed the first volume, THE POX PARTY. Mr. Anderson is brilliant. I can imagine him immersing himself in the history, entertaining his friends in the old English language. There would be no other way to write such prose with this level of accuracy and detail. I am a huge fan of Mr. Anderson and look forward to reading anything he writes. You will, too. Don’t expect it to be easy. It wasn’t easy for The Ethiopian Regiment. THE KINGDOM ON THE WAVES is an immensely satisfying read in so many ways. Octavian is real to me. He will stick in my mind for months. There is no question that this book deserves the gold star.

This review is posted here at Teens Read Too.

We lost one of our geriatric kitties today. Trouble was 15, almost 16. He and his two sisters were born in our home. We've had them longer than we've had our children. When my daughter was a teeny tiny baby, we'd open her bedroom door each morning just enough to let Trouble in. He'd jump in her crib and walk around her, rubbing up against her, till she woke. Even when we moved to our current home, and my daughter was three, we'd let him in her room and he'd jump up on her bed and gently wake her for me. That's when he also started waking my son. He did it literally for years when they were little. I loved it. They didn't get grumpy with him like they tended to with me. What a great start to the day, yes?

Last weekend I began noticing that the community water bowl was dry in the mornings. It didn't take long to figure out who was drinking so much. (His waking me in the morning meowing in my ear kind of made it hard to ignore.) Turns out he was severely diabetic as well as having some kidney issues. We thought we'd be able to manage the diabetes and left his with our friends, his vets, Thursday night and then again Friday night. Dr. Mike even took him home with them to monitor him throughout the night. But Trouble didn't make it.

He was just the coolest cat. If you check out the picture below, you can see he has two toes that have two claws each. He's a six-toed kitty. He was quite gifted in the claw department. He had 26!

As you can tell by his name, he was loads of fun as a kitten and brought our family much joy over the years. He will be sorely missed. His two sisters are definitely missing him already.



On  more fun topic, my husband took my daughter and one of her friends to see Taylor Swift last night. Just behind the railing, the light is brightest on my daughter, elbows on the railing, wavy hair. Yeah. Watch for the hand shake.


Life and living. That's what it's all about. We were fortunate to have so many wonderful years with Trouble. He was one lucky, happy, pampered cat.

...they might be reading! Check out recorded books on PLAYAWAY. I just discovered them at my local library! Too cool! And we're an itty bitty town! I bet you guys had already heard of them. But I'm so excited. What a great way to reach today's teens!

cynthialord 's book, Rules is featured on the advertisement bookmark. But instead of the familiar yellow duckie, the cover features a red toy car.

Oh, and you can also find adult titles if you wish.

And just for fun, check out this a cappella tribute to John Williams. Listen all the way through. It's worth it. Especially if you like Star Wars.

Voice. The essential element in all writing. You either have it, or you don't. That's what we hear anyway. But then we're told to read, read, read. If you want to write YA, read YA. If you want to write picture books, read picture books. How can you write historical fiction if you hate to read it? Right? It makes sense to me.

So I signed on to review books at Teens Read Too. I surround myself with teens. I read mostly YA books. Eventually, my voice started shining through in my writing. But is that enough? Just reading in your genre?

When I went down to Coral Springs, I listened to I am the Messenger by Marcus Zusak on CD. Amazing. I've never done that before. Wait. Not true. On vacations we used to get younger children's books on tape for the kids. But this was different. This wasn't just a 1-3 cassette tape book. This lasted HOURS. A long time to immerse yourself in VOICE. And the voices in that book! So many. So varied. And the narrator was amazing! The protagonist meets so many characters. It was a great study in voice.

Now I'm hooked. I'm listening to The Adoration of Jenna Fox by Mary E. Pearson. Oh. My. God! The book is incredible! No...don't tell me the ending. Two more CD's to go. But again, I find myself thinking of voice.

Must a character's voice always be the same? Think about it. Don't you use a different language (voice) at home than you use at work? I know I do! (I'd get fired otherwise. LOL.) I use a different voice when I'm talking with teens than adults. And to take it a step further. Is your inner voice different from your spoken voice? Jenna Fox has made me think on this. That's a particularly interesting question. Since, when you write in 1st person, the narrator IS your character. But sometimes, even in first person, you have specific inner thoughts in italics. Should they be the same voice as the narrated voice?

Joyce Sweeney does not let her writers in her critique groups use copies when critiquing. Joyce wants them to be auditory listeners. I wondered why. Now, I think I'm starting to understand. For me, it's about voice. If you've never listened to a book on CD in your genre, consider doing so. And while you're listening, think about voice.

Happy writing all.

Many writers are solitary people. Me? I'm a teacher. I love to talk. Although I find myself often more comfortable with my students than I am with adults. But the more I write, the more I read, the more I find I want to write and read. When given the choice of a party with adults versus staying at home in comfortable solitude with my family nearby, I'll pick the solitude almost every time.

Over the years I've found myself resenting phone intrusions more and more. That demanding, insistent ring that says answer me now. The voice on the other end demanding that you stop what you're doing to take care of what I want now. And I find myself snapping at my mother, or an unsuspecting nurse just trying to schedule and appointment. Who's fault is that?

I tell my son that video games are dangerous. They change the wiring of your brain and put your thinking in a rut. They make your thoughts feel clumsy when you try to focus on something outside that world of technology. Yet when my own children interrupt the world of my own making, my characters, their interactions, their little problems, I react with sigh, a roll of the eye, exasperation at being interrupted...again.

That's when I realize I have to pull back from my addiction. Writing is so important to me. This business of craving the approval for my writing, the desire to hold my novel in my hands, consumes me. I must crawl out of my self-imposed confinement, my writer's cocoon, and stretch my limbs. I open my eyes and remember the life that surrounds me.

It's important to remember to live. What good is a book in the hand without a loved one to share it with? What good is a publication contract if your children no longer bother to share their day with you?

I write because I love it. I write because I hope to make someone's life richer in the reading of my words. But I live because I love. And to love, I must live. Take a break. Breathe in the freshness of the morning air. Listen to your children. Laugh with your husband. Your writing with be better for it. I promise.